


Distracting Magic

by Nightread



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe, M/M, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pack Family, Pining Derek, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-21 03:58:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13732659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightread/pseuds/Nightread
Summary: The pack is in deep trouble when a warlock starts harassing them and is mostly successful. Stiles races home to help only to get caught up in something he wasn't entirely expecting.Derek does all he can to de-escalate the problem but his plan is only temporary. The tune both he and Stiles dance to has rhythms and key changes in unexpected places with their budding relationship in the balance.Can Derek and Stiles keep a potential slaughter from happening long enough to find a solution?





	1. Sleepy Greetings

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first multi-chapter work for Sterek. I plan on this story being moderately long. I do not have a lot of time to work on it and worked on this first chapter for quite some time. I finally think it's ready to be posted. Please be patient with me if you like my work enough to stick around. I want it to be really good and need time in order to do that. I don't think you will be disappointed. Please let me know what you think!

“Okay, I’m here,” Stiles called after hopping out of his Jeep. He adjusted his backpack and couldn't stop a loud yawn from escaping his lips.

He rubbed his eyes hard to ease the heaviness of them.

Derek opened the large oak door similar to the one from his childhood home. Boyd was the friend who told Stiles that in a text; an offhand comment Derek had made one day.

The house had been finished a little before Stiles had went off to college, so it was new to him. He couldn't quite remember what Erica had said to him about the alpha over the phone a few weeks ago. His focus was studying so he could get home before the school year actually ended.

“Long time, no see,” Stiles said as he approached the porch.

Derek gave him an unreadable look before going back inside. He left the door open.

Stiles sighed and nodded to himself. Of course, he wondered how he was even a little surprised. Only Derek would be articulate in text and leave people to guess his thoughts in person.

Stiles slowed his pace after Derek when he passed the threshold. The house was unexpectedly cozy.

The walls emitted a warm welcome despite how wide the hall was leading into the house. The furniture he passed were made of sturdy solid wood and had practical use.

He wouldn't know Derek's family had a few oil paintings until discovering them deeper in the home later.

A delicately sweet aroma greeted his nose. He inhaled deeper and knew real freshly baked pumpkin flavored pastries were very near. There was no way to mistake the ground cinnamon and ginger in the air for being artificial.

His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten anything in his hurry to leave campus. He had just loaded what he had already packed into his baby and drove off. His Jeep still held his stuff since he had driven right to Derek’s house. He hadn't even stopped by the police station to see his father.

“Stiles?” Erica called from the living room. Stiles headed towards the right side of the house where he found Erica bundled up on the couch watching television. Isaac and Boyd were on either side of her, clearly concerned about her condition.

“Erica,” Stiles put his backpack down and went to hug her close. “How are you feeling?”

“Other than the stolen liver, pretty well,” she smiled.

Stiles laughed weakly. If she could joke, it couldn’t be too horrible. The thought failed to lessen his worry.

“Hey, guys,” Stiles nodded to Isaac and Boyd. Isaac’s hair was cut much too short for his usual style, and Boyd kept absently touching his mouth.

Stiles knew it was the warlock’s doing and felt a surge of anger go through him. First hair, then teeth, and now a damned liver.

“It’s good to see you,” Isaac said. Boyd nodded.

“You doing okay, Stiles?” Erica asked, giving him a concerned look.

Stiles felt his head tilt in confusion. The other two were looking at him with the same worry Erica wore.

“I’m doing pretty well,” he replied. “Just super sleepy. Might be the equivalent of being drunk, in all likelihood.”

“Happy you made it safe,” Isaac said, “driving as far as you have.”

“Yeah,” Erica said, then added coyly, “And Derek’s been moping around lately.”

“Might finally have some peace,” Boyd mumbled.

Stiles wanted to ask what he meant, but didn’t get the chance.

“It’s her first day without pain,” Derek said from the entrance of the living room. He looked a bit angry and Stiles could definitely see an accusatory glint in his eye.

Stiles felt himself scowl. Since when had he been a part of the pack? He only realized Derek actually hadn’t minded his company within the past year.

The werewolf had kept coming around more once he had found out that Stiles wasn’t going to stay in town for college.

That was before Stiles had left for school.

And then much later, when the attacks had started and kept getting more sinister, Derek’s texting had tripled.

He was used to the others texting him since he had gone, and had grown accustomed to Derek's texting even before bad things had started to happen. It was just the random question on a creature Stiles may know about at first to the escalation of a constant stream since the onset of the attacks.

He knew for a fact that Scott wasn’t getting close to as many texts as he had. He had asked him.

But, he amended, Scott was actually in town so he would have been by to at least sniff around for the warlock.

“Got any coffee?” Stiles asked instead of saying anything about Derek’s aggressive behavior. He needed some caffeine in his system if he would be dealing with a grouchy sour-wolf, much less trying to figure out the motive of a psycho magic user assaulting his werewolves.

Stiles felt three sets of eyes move between him and Derek before the latter just grunted and walked out of the room and towards the kitchen. Stiles suppressed a sigh, but not an eye roll, as he followed the werewolf towards the smell of liquid heaven and the source of baked goods.

“Come to papa,” Stiles cooed down at the steaming mug of coffee he had poured and now cradled in his hands. He inhaled deeply before practically gulping down half the cup. It would have burned more if he weren’t already used to downing hot coffee at least twice a day the past few weeks.

His eyes closed as he hummed in satisfaction. Warmth seeped through him and he shivered a little. He hadn’t realized how cold the California morning air had made him. Being half asleep for anything was never a good idea and he had to keep the windows down to keep himself awake.

Peeling his eyes open, he looked over to where Derek leaned against the kitchen sink, his arms crossed. The bright sunlight streamed through the kitchen curtain from behind the werewolf and made a long shadow cast across the floor towards where Stiles sat.

Underneath the frown and pinched brow of the alpha Stiles could see worry in Derek’s eyes as he stared at the floor.

“No luck getting him since your last try?” he asked, taking a sip of coffee.

Derek’s frown intensified before he answered with a sullen, “No.”

Stiles felt for him. It was eating at Derek that his pack was being attacked and that he hasn't been able to stop it completely. Not to mention that very fact hurting his alpha pride, too.

Hell, if what Derek felt was half of the anger Stiles felt, he was surprised the house was absent of punch holes.

“Has he made an attempt at you?” Stiles asked, stepping towards him.

The werewolf let out a growl that Stiles thought was directed at him before Derek said, “I’d like to see him try.”

“Down, Sparky,” Stiles automatically replied, regretting it instantly.

Derek glared daggers at him and looked as if he were about to say something before his face lost all aggression. He uncrossed his arms and straightened a bit.

Stiles looked behind him and self-consciously touched his own face.

"What is it?” he asked, confused at the intense stare Derek was giving him. “Something on my face?”

Derek looked away and cleared his throat. “You look tired,” he answered, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

Stiles gave a lopsided grin.

“Leaving college two months early isn’t exactly a walk in the park,” he replied, placing his mug down to rub at his aching eyes. “Those exams kicked my ass hard.”

A glance at Derek revealed a face of guilt. Most likely for all the texts he had sent Stiles the past number of weeks.

"Nothing I couldn't handle, of course," Stiles added quickly.

Stiles was about to tell Derek that he was completely fine, but his stomach rumbling beat him to it. 

“Here,” Derek handed Stiles a pumpkin muffin.

“You’re my hero,” Stiles said before he bit into the fluffy pastry.

“Hey!” Erica’s indignant voice came from the living room. “I instructed how to make those!”

“Delicious instructions,” Stiles called back with a mouthful of sweetness.

“Sit and eat,” Derek demanded, pulling eggs, sausage, bacon, and biscuits from the fridge.

“You’re making me breakfast?” Stiles asked, placing his hand dramatically over his heart. “I’m touched.”

“Everyone’s getting breakfast,” Derek said, grabbing bowls and pots from the cabinet.

“Yay!” came a combined celebration from the living room.

“So domestic,” Stiles teased as he finished his coffee and got up to get more.

“Only today,” Derek replied as he grabbed the mug from Stiles and replaced it with a glass of orange juice.

“Boo!” came a chorused response from the other room.

“Come more often,” Boyd called out this time.

“We usually have to make our own breakfast,” Isaac called after.

Stiles chuckled before yawning violently. “If I get this kind of service,” Stiles said through the yawn, “I’ll definitely be here often.”

Stiles heard a muffled voice from the living room that sounded like Erica and then deep laughter from the guys.

“Stop talking nonsense,” Derek said, whisking eggs in the bowl.

“No fair, guys,” Stiles said from the kitchen table, envying werewolf hearing as his eyes got heavier despite the coffee he drank.

He sat for a few moments trying to dispel the drowsiness but decided he’d better get up if he wanted to stay awake.

He’d just pulled some plates out from the cabinet before Derek said, “It’s best for you not to be moving around.”

Stiles was about to say that he was sleepy, not invalid, before Erica’s reply came from the entrance of the kitchen.

“I’m not that bad off, Derek,” she was helped along by Isaac and Boyd. “Besides, you don’t like for us to eat on the sofa.”

“It’s how you get ants,” Derek said offhandedly, as if he’d repeated the phrase more than a few times.

“Yeah,” said Boyd with his own eye roll.

“We know,” Isaac finished, raising an eyebrow at Stiles conveying that they’d had this same conversation many times before.

Stiles would have laughed if he didn’t think their whole interaction was downright adorable. His mouth was moving before his drowsy mind told him not to say anything.

“You guys are so sweet my teeth are starting to hurt,” he said.

“Come here often enough and you might get diabetes,” Derek replied as he dropped an entire package of bacon in a huge pan which sizzled on the stove.

From the surprised faces around the table, Stiles wasn’t the only one caught off guard by Derek’s banter.

“Or heart disease,” Stiles shot back not wanting to lose sight of this side of Derek he’d never really seen. Or even suspected existed.

“ _And_ heart disease,” Derek stressed, making Stiles’ jaw literally fall open in shock. Did Derek mean he would be cooking for him when he came over? He felt the need to pinch himself since he was sure he had fallen asleep at some point and was now dreaming.

“Now my teeth are starting to hurt,” Boyd said from his seat beside Erica.

Stiles felt himself blush.

“And not just because that asshole stole them,” Isaac said from Erica’s other side.

“I said stop talking nonsense,” Derek said, turning over the bacon and starting on the sausage. He’d already put the biscuits in the oven to bake.

Stiles narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the three wolves sitting at the table with him.

Erica had said something earlier and Isaac and Boyd had thought it was pretty funny. Derek had said the same thing to them. Had she mentioned the warlock?

“Is there something important I should know about this warlock?” Stiles asked, ready to take mental notes.

To his astonishment, Erica burst out laughing.

“No, Stiles,” she said after her laughter subsided. “We’re not talking about the warlock.”

“You should get some sleep,” Boyd said, grinning in amusement. “You aren’t as astute when you’re sleep deprived.”

Stiles would have felt offended but knew Boyd was right. He was never very sharp when he needed sleep. And he definitely needed sleep.

“You can sleep in my bed,” Isaac offered, pouring himself some of the orange juice Stiles had brought back to the table with the plates.

“He’s using mine,” Derek said firmly as he set some food onto Stiles’ plate. He was addressing Isaac, but he looked at Stiles while saying it.

“I don’t care whose bed it is as long as I get some rest,” Stiles yawned as he picked up his fork to dig in.

He heard Erica and Boyd snicker, but was too tired to consider what was so funny.


	2. M.I.A.

Stiles woke with a start, his heart thumping hard. He looked around frantically not recognizing anything in the room.

Wide windows were to his right. Darkness hit against the blinds. It was night.

His breathing slowed as most of his interaction with Derek and the others from the morning returned to him.

He rested heavily against the mattress and pillows while exhaling a deep breath. He was exhausted despite the sleep. Even his bones felt tired. His head was a bit fuzzy from waking up so quickly and he couldn’t shake the grogginess that was clouding his mind. He barely remembered making it to the room and must have fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He stretched while lying in bed and made contented sighs as his back, shoulders, and joints popped. Those seats at his school were not made to be sat on for more than a few hours at a time. Stiles had been in the library so often that it wasn’t a surprise for work study students to find him knocked out with his head on a book.

His studying was nearly nonstop. The immediacy of getting home to help his friends consumed him.

But that truth didn't spare Stiles from feeling like a huge dick.

He had a bond with this pack. They had been through countless threats of dangerous creatures trying to kill them or someone else. Now he felt he had betrayed that bond. He was absent this time around when they needed him. Completely M. I. A. He couldn’t stop the hot burn of shame in the pit of his stomach.

Stiles shook his head. He was here now, and that damned warlock would be going down. No one hurt his pack and got away with it. He felt cold fury just thinking about the guy freely walking around after stealing from his friends. It was a violation as well as an insult.

Stiles finally got out of bed when he couldn’t ignore his screaming bladder. Afterwards, he navigated his way downstairs and entered the kitchen with bleary eyes. The table was submerged in a dark blue light that came through the French door windows leading to the backyard. A mist swirled softly near the ground as the day ended.

Stiles jumped as the door suddenly swung open. He took rapid steps back from the heavy wood and glass rushing towards him.

“Dammit, Derek!” Stiles hissed, tilting his head back with a hand on his face with the other over his heart. “Way to scare someone.”

Stiles caught Derek’s surprised face before his hand had covered his eyes. He opened them after an exhale to see what face the werewolf was making now. He steeled himself for annoyance, which he saw often from others, or a face of tolerance, another familiar sight.

Only not on Derek’s face. At least, not since a few years ago. He couldn’t remember a recent time Derek had worn it.

Stiles wasn’t sure what to make of the expression facing him now. Derek was observing him with slight amusement. There was a tilt to his mouth. It softened his usual stoic look. Stiles almost did a double take before he turned to the table and plunked down.

“I know you werewolves can all see in the dark, but I don’t have the gift of seeing at night.” Stiles made a swishing motion with his hand. “Can I have a little light, please?”

Derek raised both eyebrows minutely. “Sure,” he replied, flicking the switch. “But the sun will be up soon.”

“Huh?” Stiles asked, squinting his eyes at the sudden brightness. “Turn the lights back off! My eyes!”

“It’s almost 6 a.m.” Derek said with a smile in his voice as he turned off the lights. He headed towards the coffee pot across the kitchen.

Stiles was momentarily distracted by the smell of the woods on Derek as he passed by. He must have run through the deeper parts of it. Or ran close to the ground. Probably both.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Stiles said quickly, Derek’s words finally processing. He waved his hand in front of him before emphasizing his next sentence with a sprawled fingered palm-down motion. “You’re telling me that I slept for almost twenty-four hours?” He sounded shocked to his own ears.

“Why didn’t anyone-

His words died in his mouth as he looked over to where Derek stood fixing coffee. His eyes traveled down a shirtless back rippling with muscles to the firm butt in gym shorts. Stiles swallowed hard and forced himself to look away. He spoke quickly to keep his mind on the topic he nearly lost.

“We have a magical maniac making a mess by maniacal means. We need to get to work on this!” Stiles shook his head. “Someone should have woken me up.”

Derek finished pouring water in the coffee machine before turning to address Stiles.

“First,” Derek began, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter. The motion flexed his toned abs and swelled his muscled arms.

Stiles bit his tongue and made his eyes look only at Derek’s face.

“Nice alliteration. Second, you were falling asleep at the table with a fork full of bacon in your mouth.” Derek’s raised eyebrow showed just how unimpressed he was. “No one was about to wake you up even if I hadn’t ordered them not to disturb you.”

Stiles blinked a few times.

“Oh,” he said, not really knowing what else to say.

A compliment from Derek, then genuine concern. Stiles thought yesterday’s behavior was odd and a fluke, but it was obviously continuing. What in the world was going on?

“You said you haven’t encountered the warlock, right?” Stiles asked, trying to keep suspicion from coloring his question.

“He’d be dead if I had,” Derek growled, face turning dark. “He knew when one of us was alone. Everyone's described hearing a low chanting before falling unconscious. They woke up with the warlock long gone after he took what he was after.”

The anger in Derek’s voice disguised a distressed timbre that Stiles had missed in his sleep deprived state. Now, it wouldn’t have been clearer if Derek were howling in anguish totally wolfed out.

“It’s not your fault,” Stiles said before he knew he had uttered it.

Derek’s eyes shot up to meet his. There were too many emotions in them for Stiles to decipher before Derek looked away.

“It is my fault,” Derek said softly, staring at nothing in particular. Stiles could tell that the alpha's mind wandered into a guilty corner he was well acquainted with.

“Then it’s my fault as well,” Stiles replied firmly, grasping the edge of the table hard. He looked out the door windows where the mist was clearing a bit. The burning shame was back.

“I wasn’t here when I could have been of use to everyone. I could have at least helped Boyd avoid dental theft even if I couldn’t have helped Erica.”

Stiles couldn’t bring himself to look at Derek. He wouldn’t be able to stand the judgement in his eyes.

“You’re an idiot,” he heard Derek say and if he were right about the tone, Derek had rolled his eyes while saying it.

Stiles sputtered with indignation as his head shot up to look at him with an angry retort on his tongue. Derek was still leaning against the counter, only now his hands were on either side of him and his whole chest was on display.

Stiles turned away quickly, his response lost. It wasn’t fair for Derek to be half dressed and practically flashing him. There was only so much a guy could take. He stubbornly reeled his mind to focus on the conversation. He had a point to make.

“You’re not the only one allowed to feel guilty about this,” he said staring hard at the table top, which actually looked a proper brown now that the sun was beginning to ascend.

“Look,” Stiles began after a deep breath, “I may not understand the depth of the connection between an alpha and his pack. The responsibility and obligation you feel towards them is something only you know.”

Stiles wrung his hands nervously. “I mean, they’re basically your family now,” he hurriedly glanced at Derek, barely catching the intense gaze he was getting as he spoke. “But,” Stiles paused, thinking carefully how to word his thoughts, “part of this falls on me, too. You are all of my friends and I wasn’t here.” Stiles hung his head. “What if something worse had happened? I couldn’t have done anything being that far away.”

Stiles was silent for a moment, debating asking a question that was churning inside him before his mouth opened and it tumbled out.

“Am I an idiot because I wouldn’t have been able to do anything even if I were here?” Stiles’ voice was more solemn than he had meant it to be and he had no idea what face he was making as he looked at Derek. He searched the werewolf’s eyes for an answer he could bear.

“Of course not,” Derek instantly replied, shaking his head.

Stiles felt a swell of relief. Tension left his shoulders as he sank in his chair. He gave a weak chuckle at his own insecurity.

“I guess you texted me enough at school to answer that question,” Stiles supplied, smiling a little.

Derek gave a small cough as he turned around to get mugs from the cabinet. Stiles wasn’t sure, but he could almost swear he saw a tinge of red on the tip of Derek’s ears. He silently wished the sun was higher up so he could know without a doubt.

“I’m sorry,” Derek said as he poured coffee. “I didn’t mean for you to push yourself this hard to get back so soon.” He looked back at Stiles after placing the coffee pot back on its plate. “It was selfish of me.”

“Maybe a little bit,” Stiles grinned as Derek walked over with the filled mugs, “but you were thinking of the pack. I can’t blame you for that.”

“Well, I may not think you’re an idiot when you’re helping everyone, but I do think you’re an idiot for driving when you were that sleepy. You could have fallen asleep on the road.” Derek gave an accusatory look similar to the one he had given Stiles when he had first arrived. He set the coffee mug down in front of Stiles with a loud thunk. “It was reckless.”

Stiles could feel his mouth open in disbelief. What was the definition of a werewolf if it was not ‘reckless?’ Especially with the werewolves he knew?  
Not only that, Stiles hadn’t been reckless at all. Well, not as reckless as Derek was implying. Stiles could never sleep on cold nights no matter how tired he was. The window had been open and cold air was blowing on him the entire way to the house.

Stiles crossed his arms in irritation. “I don’t want to hear that coming from you.” He ignored the warm aroma of coffee wafting in front of him in order to sulk. Derek wasn’t the only one allowed to do that, either.

“I had told you not to split up the last time you all looked for the warlock to corner him, and what did you do?” Stiles inclined his head in a knowing way, leaning towards Derek. “You ordered a split!”

Derek looked surprised that Stiles knew what had happened before his face turned angry.

“You’ve been asking everyone about my tactical decisions?” he asked in offense.

“They’ve been telling me,” Stiles shot back, grabbing his phone and waving it in front of Derek’s face with the last entries being Isaac, Erica, and Boyd just after Derek’s. “They always text asking for advice throughout the day.”

“They shouldn’t be bothering you,” Derek turned stubbornly away, ignoring the phone Stiles held up between them. “Everything was going well until the bastard got his hands on Erica using fucking magic.”

“Imagine that. A warlock using magic for evil deeds,” Stiles rolled his eyes. Derek glared at him.

“Look,” Stiles said, finally taking a sip of coffee. He made a sigh of contentment before continuing. “I didn’t wreck my jeep on the way here. I’m drinking delicious coffee and enjoying your lovely,” Stiles’ eyes involuntarily traveled down Derek’s built frame, which was much closer now. He forced his eyes back up quickly. “Company,” he finished, blushing slightly.

Stiles pinched himself on the arm to get his attention where it needed to be. There were bigger issues than his lack of sex life added with a slightly higher libido now that he didn’t have to study hour after hour. Derek’s incredible body was still hotter than Texas, of course, but he was still a man who was most likely only interested in women.

And, if he were into the same team, Stiles was sure he never looked at him in any lustful way. He needed to stop embarrassing himself (even with only himself knowing,) and get to work on stopping the deranged psycho after his best friends.

Stiles shot up from his seat as a sudden realization hit him. His movement was so unexpected that Derek startled a little.

“How can you be running by yourself with this guy on the loose?” Stiles accused angrily. “What if he attacked you?”

“He doesn't attack during the day, Stiles,” Derek responded. “We've told you that before.”

Derek didn't seem perturbed about the accusation. If anything, he seemed pleased.

“Right,” Stiles felt his face heat up. “Well,” Stiles went on with as much dignity as he could muster, sitting back down, “it was still pretty dark out when you came in.”  
He was sure he heard Derek give an amused laugh, but Stiles moved on before he could give a response. They had work to do.

“Tell me everything you know about this asshole so we can take him down.” Stiles leaned forward, ready for war.


	3. Information

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being patient, guys!! I cannot even begin to describe how busy life has gotten. I wanted to post this chapter a long time ago but something always got in the way. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about this story.  
> Please tell me what you like or don't like. Constructive criticism is always welcome.  
> I'm thinking of going into Derek's head soon. What do you think?  
> Well, please enjoy!!

“Hold that thought,” Stiles said as he looked around the kitchen from his seat. “I need some paper and a pen for notes.”

“Check in the sitting room. Top drawer of the desk,” Derek said getting to his feet as well.

Stiles went to the other room and returned with the items only to find Derek preparing breakfast.

Stiles cleared his throat.

“We can do both,” Derek said. “You've got to be starving by now.”

Stiles couldn't bring himself to be upset. Derek obviously wanted to catch the warlock yet here he was making Stiles breakfast. Again. Treating him like pack.

He gingerly set the paper and pen down at the table. He supposed Derek really did consider him pack. He didn't make breakfast for the rest of the people in the house, according to them. So, treated a little better than the pack. He felt his lips quark up from that fact.

“Where do you want to start?” Derek asked from the frying pan.

Stiles thought about it while a second thought of suggesting to Derek to put more vegetables in their diet crossed his mind. He liked meat as much as the next person, but he also liked not having to worry about clogged arteries when he got older. He was sure that wasn't a problem for werewolves.

“Let's start with what we do know,” Stiles replied as he jotted down what they had told him. “Doesn't attack during the day, uses spells that include chanting, has taken hair, teeth, and a liver.” He mumbled his list while writing quickly.

“Knows when we are separate,” Derek added on from where he stood.

Stiles nodded as he wrote it down. “Do you think he's acting alone?”

“Yes,” Derek said, “we haven't smelled or heard anyone else.”

“Always good to have werewolf senses,” Stiles said as he peered down at the paper.

“Hmm,” he hummed as he tapped his pencil on the table. A plate was set in front of him. An omelette sat on half the dish while the other held bacon.

“This looks delicious,” Stiles put the pencil down to take a bite. He savored the taste. “Mmmm.”

He looked up at Derek to tell him it was great but the man was staring at him with an odd look. Almost as if he were a deer in headlights.

Stiles opened his mouth to ask what the matter was.

“Good?” Derek asked before Stiles said a word. He whisked around to make more food.

Stiles felt himself frown. He wanted to know what Derek had been thinking. What could possibly be so interesting that he'd stare at him like that?

“Yeah,” Stiles replied slowly. “I didn't know you could cook so well.”

“Not that difficult,” Derek replied as he moved around the kitchen. He was fidgeting.

“Is something the matter?” Stiles asked. “You seem bothered.”

Derek shook his head. “Nothing's wrong. What else can we list about this asshole?”

Stiles knew he wouldn't get anymore out of Derek so he went back to his list.

“So far we have chanting, taking of body parts, knowing when to attack, doesn’t attack during the day, and that he's most likely acting alone,” Stiles listed. “Something obvious is missing.”

“You mean us, right?” Ericka said as she, Isaac, and Boyd walked into the kitchen.

“And our omelettes,” Isaac added as he sat down next to Stiles. He plucked a piece of bacon from his plate.

“Away, heathen!” Stiles play hit his hand away.

“We’re trying to gather what we know about the warlock,” Stiles said while brandishing his fork as a weapon and shield to keep greedy hands from his bacon. It did no good since each of them got a few strips.

“Let me see,” Boyd looked over the list then passed it to Erica who was gesturing for it. She let Isaac see it next.

“Yum!” She said excitedly when Derek put her plate down.

“I can see who your favorites are,” Isaac said with a sniff when he was served after Boyd.

“You all annoy me equally,” Derek replied as he sat down with his own plate.

Stiles couldn't help the grin on his face. It was such a nice atmosphere to be included in.

“I have a feeling something is missing,” Stiles said after everyone had a proper look at the list. “Oh!” Stiles snapped his fingers. “I need the dates from you guys. From the very first time he appeared to what day he actually attacked.”

He jotted down the days they said next to their name. The information did wonders for a pattern to appear.

From the looks of it the warlock made a few feigned attacks in the beginning in order to gauge the werewolves he was messing with. A smart move. After that it seemed his window of opportunity ranged from the beginning of the weeks for the past few full moons.

Isaac's attack was the furthest from the full moon while Erica's attack was almost on the very night of the full moon. Just the day before, actually.

“This guy likes to live dangerously,” Stiles observed. “It seems he's been aiming for the time when you are all the most powerful. He must be very skilled.”

Derek took the paper and looked it over. His brow scrunched in concentration.

“It's about the potency of ingredients, then,” he said putting the paper down. “I don't remember very much, but my mother did speak about magical beings. She said that magic users especially liked to follow either a ritual or incantation that required ingredients for potions.”

“The pattern of our attacks matches more of a magical grocery list for Warlock soup?” Erica asked peering at the paper as if it had all the answers.

“That’s appetizing,” Boyd said sarcastically as he paused in eating his omelette.

“I'll take your bacon,” Isaac volunteered. There was a brief squabble before Stiles gave Isaac the rest of his bacon to make peace.

Erica grinned behind her orange juice and Derek seemed distracted. The werewolf chewed slowly as he thought.

“He's put a lot of time and effort into this. Basic spells are okay with quick works but difficult magic requires specific steps and instructions.”

“That’s great to know. Did you get some of that information from Deaton or all of it from what your mom taught you?” Stiles asked as he jotted down the new knowledge on another sheet of paper. This was good stuff.

When the silence around the table stretched, Stiles looked up to see everyone finding different parts of the room interesting. Even Derek avoided meeting his eyes.

“You did go by to see him, right?” Stiles looked at every one of them. “Like I specifically asked you to?”

Erica's face looked pinched while Derek's looked stubborn. Isaac and Boyd shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

“Derek!” Stiles zeroed in on the alpha. He knew the others would have went to ask Deaton unless told not to by a direct order from the alpha.

“I don’t see why we need to go to him at all,” Derek ground out with arms crossed. “We don’t need to ask anyone outside for help.”

“I'm not a werewolf either,” Stiles reasoned.

“You're different,” Derek responded with a near petulant look.

If Stiles weren't so angry, he'd think the look cute. The seriousness of the situation sapped any humor he had.

Instead of responding he let out a frustrated grumble as he got up from his seat and headed to the front door with the information they'd gathered.

“Where are you going?” Derek called after.

“To the freakin’ moon, where do you think I’m going?” Stiles called back before he slammed the front door and got in his Jeep.

He didn’t go to Deaton’s though. He went to his dad’s.

He pulled up into the driveway and wondered if his dad was home or already at work.

“Dad?” he called once he unlocked the door and walked in. No one answered. Stiles took his bag upstairs and took a shower before emailing Deaton.

He thought his anger had subsided at the stubborn alpha. A broken glass from a hard set down revealed his true feelings. He was still seething beneath the surface.

It was noon before he got a response from Deaton and they set up a meeting time later that night.

He took the sheet that had the list and wrote down as much valuable information from online researches as he could. The little yield confirmed his doubt of finding anything worthy. It did, however, provide him with a much needed distraction.

Clacking away at the computer was familiar given how much he did it now as a college student. At least his chair at home was more comfortable than those flat ones the school offered.

He was about to call it a day when big hands gripped his hips from behind the gaps in his seat. Derek's face came into view from his periphery when the alpha laid his head on Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles would have felt a little awkward at their proximity and the intimate location of Derek's hands had the werewolf not put his mouth on Stiles’ neck. He trailed kisses up and down the column of flesh as his hands roamed nearer to the center of Stiles’ crotch.

Stiles felt a thrill go down his spine and a flood of heat below his belt. He longed for Derek to just put his hands down his pants already.

**RING RING RING**

Stiles’ head shot up from his desk where he had fallen asleep at. He blinked blearily at his cell phone and groaned in frustration.

He was hard and wished the Derek in his dream had gotten a little bit further. He felt himself go red from the desire licking at his insides. The poor werewolf probably had multiple people fantasizing about him. He didn't need a horny guy having wet dreams about him, too.

“What is it, Scott,’ he asked moodily.

“Dude, why didn't you tell me you were in town?” Scott's voice held a note of betrayal in it. “And rude. Is that how you answer the phone to your best friend? A friend you didn't bother telling you were in town?”

“Alright, alright, I'm in town,” Stiles responded, feeling his hard-on fleeing. Scott's mopey voice could do that to a person. “I'm supposed to be meeting Deaton later tonight. I'll probably go back to Derek's after that.”

“I would join you, but Allison is coming over for dinner tonight. I'll see you tomorrow with what you- ‘

“Back to Derek's?”’ Scott's voice nearly went shrill. “How can you go there first of all places?”

“Have you forgotten about the deranged warlock stealing werewolf organs,” Stiles asked rhetorically. “What I don't understand is everyone's reluctance to ask for help about this guy.”

“I asked Deaton, but didn't know what we were looking for,” Scott's voice grew smaller as he spoke.

Stiles felt himself relent to the puppy dog eyes he could see through the phone. Scott was helpless when it came to inquiring about most subjects. “I know. Drop by Derek's tomorrow. I may have some information about the guy by then.”

“Okay,” Scott said.

“And stay indoors tonight!” he demanded.

“Yes, mother,” Scott replied sarcastically.

Stiles shook his head. He had the feeling his headstrong werewolves were taking this guy a little too lightly. Or perhaps it was the warlock being a bit audacious with his bold moves.

Attacking werewolves when they were strongest suggested either a confidence in skill or an overconfidence of talent, irrational thinking or desperation, which were sort of the same thing. He hoped his meeting tonight shed more light on what they were dealing with.

* * *

 

Stiles entered Deaton’s office at the animal shelter around eight p.m. after a knock on the door.

“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” Stiles greeted once he stepped inside.

Deaton only nodded as he piled a few old looking books on his desk along with some brown pouches and a few small wooden boxes.

“It’s good to see you. I hope you’ve been doing well,” Deaton said once everything was in place.

“For the most part,” Stiles responded, sitting down in the chair opposite of where Deaton stood.

He didn’t have much to work with even with the information Derek and the pack had given him concerning the warlock. The internet search was a bust. The sudden dream was a bonus, but he would think about that later.

“Has no one really tried to ask you about this guy?” Stiles could still barely believe it. How could Derek let his pride get in the way of helping the pack?

He wracked his brain of why they hadn’t sought out Deaton to begin with. Why had they let a very good resource go to waste when they could have progressed much more quickly with his knowledge?

He knew Derek thought the man suspicious, but Stiles knew Deaton was a good guy.

“Well, Scott had asked about types of magic users, but nothing very specific,” Deaton said, seeming to realize Stiles’ exasperation. “I suppose he didn’t know what to ask.”

Stiles sighed. Leave it to his stubborn, prideful pack to try and solve things themselves when they had a perfectly good place to pull from. Stiles knew he was being unfair to most of them, but still, Deaton knew so much.

“Thanks, again,” Stiles said, before pulling some of the books towards him. They were in English, but a couple seemed to be in Latin. Deaton was kind enough provide a Latin dictionary which was obviously newer than the rest of the books.

“Is there anything about warlocks that we should know immediately?” he asked, flipping through some of the pages in a large tome.

There were diagrams and cycles of the moon in it. There were also sketches that looked like organs and other plant life that he really didn’t know what to make of at the moment. It seemed pretty dark.

“Warlocks usually don’t need any sort of medium to perform their magic,” Deaton began, “So don’t expect to see any wand waving.”

“Alright,” Stiles said, knocking that off his mental list of possible ways to defeat the guy.

“They’re more ambitious than other magical beings, which means they will play dirty.”

At the look of Stiles’ face, he elaborated.

“People are still who they are no matter what they are. But we can’t say their nature doesn’t influence their actions.”

Stiles nodded. That made sense.

“A warlock’s desire for power amplifies their baser human nature. What is bad in them gets worse, such as greed or pride.”

“Since that nature is amplified and usually tied to power, they are then more willing to do whatever it takes to maintain that power and eager to have it grow. Not every warlock is like that, but I’m afraid the majority fall under that category.”

Stiles nodded, understanding what he meant. The warlock they were dealing with would just not let up on attacking his pack and stealing from them. He wasn't outrageously  bold but attacked with purpose. Sloppy with how he got what he needed but fast and organized enough to get away without a trace.

Maybe the guy was a thief or maybe he just had a thing against werewolves. The one thing Stiles was certain of was the man’s cleverness.

It was pretty obvious his desire for power made him more dangerous to them than other creatures. The creatures, at least, were wary of werewolves, which helped this young pack get the upper hand.

He knew his pack wasn’t weak. They only lacked enough experience to take down an enemy in order to make him stay down for good. A bloodless battle was preferable, if they could help it, but they still needed to be willing to shed it if it came down to that for the safety of the pack.

Stiles feared they may need the latter situation here. The warlock proved to be too dangerous to underestimate. He already succeeded three times against them.

He stopped himself from making too many assumptions. Until he knew more about the man and met him face to face, it was best to keep his view as open as possible. Being flexible in strategy and planning required it of him.

“If we find out what makes this guy tick, or know what he’s specifically after, we can possibly set a trap for him. One that will work,” Stiles mused aloud.

“That’s a good way to start,” Deaton said, looking a bit impressed. Stiles realized he had just said aloud what Deaton was going to suggest next.

“From what I can tell he follows a certain pattern with the moon,” Stiles added, thinking about what the pack told him. He pulled out his list with the pattern and set in on the table. “I think he’s brewing something that requires he get werewolf parts during a particular cycle of their shifting time frame with the full moon. Is there a specific potion that requires that?”

Deaton’s hand scratched his jaw as he thought. He looked over the paper Stiles brought tracking the time frame.

“He seems very daring,” he said.

“That's what I said,” Stiles responded. “He either thinks he can take on the pack with magical strategies alone, which he's been successful at so far, or his nature is just that ambitious.”

Deaton was silent for a while before he picked up the oldest looking book and quickly flipped through the pages. Stiles realized it was the one in Latin and his respect for the man doubled when he realized Deaton already knew the language. Of course he did.

“I think I can understand why he won’t let up on the pack,” Deaton said as he slid the book towards Stiles so he could see the drawing there.

There was a sketch of a man in a cloak, big bones gathered behind him and the head of a werewolf perched atop a stump. His eyes were manic and the smile on his face sent chills down Stiles’ spine.

“I kind of don’t want to know what I’m seeing,” Stiles near whispered.

“The warlock here is close to insanity by a powerful spell that was cast on him from an origin unknown,” Deaton explained, pointing to certain Latin text to emphasize his words. “He needed parts of a werewolf in order to brew a concoction to release him from its hold. Preferably an alpha since it would make it more effective, but really any werewolf would be enough.”

“What makes you think he was hit with a spell?” Stiles asked in a weak voice.

“Warlocks are power hungry, but not very many would attack this many times and so near to the full moon,” he responded. “More than ambition, this warlock is running out of time.” Deaton paused, seeming to debate going on.

“It may be too late for the man. If the spell that hit him is the one I’m thinking of, he only has around four months before it totally consumes him and he’s been at the pack for a few months already.

“Scott told me that he suspected stalking before the first attack and your timetable upholds that suggestion. There’s no telling how long it took him to find the pack, to begin with, and his progressive aggression only seem to indicate that he only has a few weeks left, at best.”

Stiles sat back from where he had leaned forward, sick to his stomach at the thought. He felt pity for the warlock.

“What happens after he loses his mind? Do you think he’ll still try and come at us?” Stiles asked, a bit panicked at the image on the page stalking his friends. A man still thinking he could do something for his plight when it was already way too late.

“It’s hard to say,” Deaton sighed, the frown still on his face. “People get reckless when they’re desperate. It’s when they’re most dangerous. Here,” he said, putting the books and items in a sturdy bag, “take this and they should help in at least making a trap for him. The pouches have some mixtures of strains of plants that can subdue a magic user.”

He looked right in Stiles’ eyes, “Do not let these out of your sight. I’m trusting them with only you because they are very potent.”

Stiles swallowed. He wondered if they were a threat to Deaten. He felt far more than the weight of the bag as Deaton handed it over to him.

“Unfortunately, urgent business has called me out of town for awhile,” Deaton went on, putting some items in a duffel bag Stiles hadn’t noticed was sitting on the seat behind the desk. “I will have my phone with me should you need to contact me in the event of an emergency.”

Deaton reached out his right hand for Stiles to shake. “Good luck.”

“You, too,” Stiles said, nodding his thanks. He had the feeling a big thing was going to happen soon and would need all the help Deaton gave him. The bag on his shoulder felt a bit lighter now that he saw it that way.

He peered up at the moon once he got to his Jeep. He needed to get started on reading the Latin book if he wanted to know when the warlock would strike next.

He started his Jeep and got ready for a long night of study.


	4. Brilliant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter!! I really did not mean to wait this long for a chapter to be added. I've become one of those authors that make people wait months on end and I don't like it. :(  
> I am planning on adding the next one much sooner than you had to wait for this one.  
> There will be action between the characters soon so just hold tight!!

“Will you stop pacing already?” Erika had a testy edge in her tone. “The warlock isn't after humans he's after us.”

Derek shot her a look.

“We already know Stiles went to Deaton's to talk,” Isaac said. “Boyd said he smelled his scent heading that direction on his way back from picking up the steaks from the store.”

“Don't let Stiles know that,” Boyd said. “Scott told us he was demanding him to stay inside tonight, remember? I think our mother hen would say I was cutting the timing too close.”

Isaac and Erika chuckled.

“He hasn't called us yet. I think you're safe,” Erika replied.

“Have you forgotten the fact that this warlock has already gotten the better of us?” Derek asked darkly. “Regenerative power does not make us immortal. He could have easily killed any of you.”

The room got silent.

“If you had let us talk to Deaton when we wanted to, Stiles wouldn't be angry with you- um, us,” Erika amended quickly after a swift kick from Boyd under the table.

She shrunk in her seat at Derek's warning growl.

“Stiles isn't a werewolf. We don't know what will happen if the warlock thinks he's supernatural. He may kidnap him or use him as a hostage. There's no telling,” Derek sighed heavily. “He shouldn't have to worry about our problems anyway.”

“Stiles is pack,” Erika stated.

The guys nodded with easy agreement.

“You already know you won't be able to keep him away from this,” Boyd added.

“Especially with him being who he is,” Isaac said. “The ship has sailed to keep him in the dark when we all kept texting after he'd left for school. And that was before this guy came along.”

“That doesn't change the fact that he's the most vulnerable of any of us,” Derek pointed out.

“Should we trail him?” Boyd asked.

Derek shook his head. “Us following him would only lead the guy to him quicker. He knows how to track us. I don't think he's gotten anything of Stiles to make that work. Not yet.”

“It makes you wonder how he got any of our things,” Erika said aloud to no one in particular. “It’s not exactly easy to get past us without us noticing.”

“He could have picked up something you drank or eaten with and thrown away,” Derek explained. “It doesn’t take very much.”

“How do you know this?” Boyd asked with a curious face. “Did Stiles tell you?”

“I found an old book in my mother’s things,” Derek answered as he looked out the window for signs of Stiles’ arrival. “I found it earlier today.”

“Your mom was pretty cool, huh?” Isaac said making an impressed face.

“It belongs to an old family friend,” Derek said. “I saw the name on the cover but I’ve lost touch with them since the fire. I only have the book since it was in storage outside the property.”

“Maybe they can help us,” Boyd suggested.

“I was going to call them if Stiles thinks it’s a good idea,” Derek said not noticing the sly looks his pack was shooting his direction.

“Got it bad,” Erika giggled.

Derek shot an annoyed look at her this time. Before he could respond, the door opened to reveal Stiles carrying a big bag with an array books and boxes. He settled it on the table with a winded gasp.

Stiles didn't greet or look at anybody. His eyes held worry and they could all tell his thoughts were miles away.

“I need the table,” he said aloud.

The group of werewolves turned to Derek. He had a strict rule of dinner being together and at the dining table.

“We'll eat in the living room,” Derek replied.

The pack’s faces lit up. Television and dinner was a rare combination. Erika’s grin turned sly again while Boyd and Isaac only shot him quick looks of amusement. They were all smart enough not to comment on his capitulation.

Derek began cooking as Stiles dived into the books laid out on every surface of the table. He ate whatever Derek placed in front of him. His concentration broke when the pack gathered near the back door.

“Hey,” Stiles stood from his seat, “don’t split up tonight.”

Derek opened his mouth to protest but snapped it shut when he saw the fear in Stiles’ eyes.

“When you do your rounds, don't break apart,” Stiles leaned forward with his hands braced on the table, eyes pleading and focused on the alpha. “Promise me, Derek.”

Derek couldn’t look away if he wanted to.

“Promise,” he heard himself say. He gazed at Stiles a beat longer before heading out into the night with his werewolves. They all stayed together without a direct command from Derek. The alpha had meant to keep his word and the pack knew it.

* * *

 

Derek entered the kitchen and slowed when he heard soft breathing.

He hardly believed his eyes when he saw Stiles using an old book for a pillow. His body was bent at an awkward angle where he had fallen asleep last night.

Derek stared at the man who was doing his best for the pack. It was worth all the ants they were probably going to get with the way everyone ate; food falling everywhere. Derek had made them clean up after themselves in the living room after dinner.

Derek silently debated whether picking up Stiles would wake him when he started to stir.

Stiles groaned, slowly sitting up and rubbing at an aching back. He opened his eyes in a squint as he stretched his arms, his shirt riding up and showing a lovely section of pale skin.

Derek swallowed hard, hoping nothing else of his would get hard at the sight.

He made his way to the coffee machine knowing Stiles wouldn’t eat or consume anything else before he drank strong caffeine.

“How did you sleep?” he asked over his shoulder, trying to quell the annoyance he felt with himself for letting Stiles fall asleep at the table. He had tried to get him to go to bed last night but when Stiles got something in his head to complete he was just as stubborn as any of the werewolves living under his roof.

“Not too bad,” Stiles said with as he rubbed his eyes, “I’ve definitely had worse nights.”

Derek’s imagination led him to picture Stiles sleeping in a similar manner with his head on a pile of books. He probably looked the same when he had studied in order to leave school early to help the pack. A fondness rose up in Derek’s chest at the thought and even more regard for the man came forward for his dedication.

Derek leaned against the counter watching Stiles rub at the sleep in his eyes.

“You look happy,” Stiles said when he lowered his hands and glanced over at him. “Did last night’s patrol go well? Find any clues?”

Derek could feel his face freeze. They didn’t find anything last night and did not split up to search more area.

Derek knew Stiles had learned something grave about the warlock yesterday when he had visited Deaton. Information that spooked him enough that he couldn’t hide it.

“It wasn’t the worst patrol we’ve had,” Derek responded, “but we didn’t find anything new.”

Stiles nodded as if he had expected it.

Derek felt himself frown. Did he think their patrols were useless? Did he expect them to always be fruitless in their search?

Derek shook his head. Taking out his frustration and worry on Stiles wasn’t fair. He wouldn’t think that of them in the first place.

He watched as Stiles looked down at some notes he had written on; diagrams and lengths of days scribbled and marked hurriedly.

“You probably think we went out for nothing,” Derek sighed, biting his tongue immediately after saying it. Couldn’t he keep his disappointment to himself?

Stiles’ eyes shot to him with confusion. “No,” was all he said before going back to his notes. “I don’t think the warlock will try anything until the day after tomorrow. The moon will be a third of the way to the full moon and he’ll need a spleen.”

“When did you find that out?” Derek was across the room and leaning over Stiles’ shoulder where sketches of the moon and a time frame were marked along with some words in Latin. Other lines were drawn that connected Boyd’s stolen teeth, Erika’s carved out liver and Isaac’s snipped hair. The timeline revealed a pattern to the cycles of the moon. It was all there.

“Just a few hours after you all left,” Stiles said, pointing to his handwritten notes that indicated the day he figured the warlock would try and strike. “Which was the only reason I didn’t worry too much when I didn’t see any of you come back. I only knew you guys went through your windows when you came to tell me to go to bed.”

“You’re amazing,” Derek said absently.

He heard Stiles’ pulse pick up and could see a shade of pink on his cheeks as he glanced back at Derek.

“It’s no big deal,” Stiles shrugged, but his hands started a nervous tic against the table.

Derek huffed a small laugh. Leave it to Stiles to find out what they couldn’t in only a little more than a day of being back.

“Though I think this could have been known sooner had someone went to Deaton in the beginning,” Stiles said, shooting a look at Derek that told him he was still upset at their lack of initiative.

Derek knew he deserved that. His pack’s lives were at stake. He could have at least asked the shifty man a few questions.

“I don’t trust him,” he said, though the words seemed like a weak excuse to his own ears even though he believed the sentiment.

Stiles sighed but didn’t say anything.

“We need to set a trap,” Stiles said, leaning over to pick up a bag that laid by his chair.

Derek got a full view of Stiles’ ass in snug fit jeans and gripped the back of the chair hard. He looked as much as he could before he jerked his eyes away in an effort to control his quickening blood. He felt he should feel ashamed of himself but couldn’t quite muster up the feeling.

He could always rely on Stiles even from the beginning. He realized he had took him for granted as soon as he learned Stiles would be away from Beacon Hills for college the previous year.

It didn’t sink in that he really liked the mouthy too-smart-for-his-own-good human until he was away from town for a few months. He still didn’t know if he wanted to act on his feelings, especially with his pack in danger, but would definitely give it thought once this whole situation was behind them.

“Deaton’s going to be out of town for a bit,” Stiles said, sitting up and hauling the bag onto the table. He reached in and took out a few brown pouches and a box. “He gave me some items to mix together for magic-users. I think I should have something made by the end of today if not by tomorrow.”

“He taught you how to make it?” Derek asked, eyeing the sticks and metals pulled out from one of the packs. It looked like junk to him but it obviously held some power.

“One of the books he lent me has instructions in it,” Stiles said, looking down at a page from the book on his left.

Derek looked at the table as if seeing it for the first time. Stiles was much more brilliant than Derek and his pack gave him credit for.

He had already known Stiles was super smart, but seeing the man grasp magical elements and concepts this quickly was unheard of. He was a human first and foremost. A man who knew his shit (Deaton) just up and left him with difficult books because he knew Stiles would get them.

“Put the books away,” Derek said, gesturing to the books and magical items as he moved to the kitchen counter. When Stiles looked about to argue, Derek held up a hand and raised an eyebrow. “You are eating breakfast before you do anything. You’re brainy enough to have more than enough time to make whatever it is you need to make for the warlock. We can also come up with a plan after you eat.”

Stiles’ frown looked more like a pout, but it soon turned amused.“‘Brainy,’” he snickered as he put marks in his books and gathered everything in the bag.

“I didn’t want to say brilliant and give you an even bigger head,” Derek responded as he got mugs for the coffee. He caught the flattered look and resulting blush on Stiles’ face before he went back to the coffee pot and felt his own mouth lift in a grin.

He liked being the one to put that look on Stiles’ face. He liked the look Stiles got in his eyes when he was focused on something. He liked the quick flashes of intellect behind those eyes when connections were made that no one else saw and then related it to everyone in simple terms. He was pretty sure if Stiles wore glasses he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself.

Derek nearly spilt coffee over the edge of one of the mugs while imagining it. He already woke up to Stiles’ scent on his pillow this morning and had to relieve a raging boner.

He’d imagined Stiles’ lips on the tip of his erection, slowly swirling his tongue over the leaking slit and then gulping him down. He knew such a smart mouth would have no problem making him come.

Derek closed his eyes and slowly counted to fifteen. He was not going to the table with a tent in his pants. They had a psycho to catch and there was no time to be thinking of Stiles’ red lips pleasuring him. Especially when in the kitchen with Stiles behind him working hard to take the crazy magic-user down.

When he was ready, Derek brought Stiles’ coffee to him before making him a hearty breakfast. The pack soon woke up to the smell of breakfast and joined them in the kitchen.

“You weren't kidding about the heart disease,” Stiles said when the food was done and served. He was slightly red in the face from recalling the first time Derek had indicated Stiles' inclusion in the household.

Derek smiled. It was so easy for Stiles to be part the rhythm of their day. He felt his smile fade when he knew he had to ask why Stiles was so worried about their stalker. If such a capable man was rattled by the guy, the enemy had to be dangerous to a degree he hadn't considered before.

His pack had all healed pretty well at this point but Derek felt the attacks were child’s play when he took Stiles’ fear of the man into account. The danger level would be amped-up once they knew what Stiles had discovered.

Pushing those thoughts aside, he took whatever joy he could in feeding the brain of their group a delicious breakfast. The hard conversation would come soon enough.


	5. The Plan and Action

“I don’t like it,” Derek objected with a scowl later that evening, crossing his arms and making a stance that took up as much space as possible.

Stiles did a mental eye roll at the unconscious move the alpha made.

“When do you like anything?” he muttered rhetorically before going on. “Look, this keeps everyone safe and makes the warlock either fight or surrender. It’s our best shot.”

“You’re only human, Stiles,” Erica said from the sitting room settee.

“We’re werewolves,” Isaac said from a corner chair, “I don’t think putting you in the center of danger is necessary.”

“As I've said, it's because you are all werewolves that no one can do this but me. The ingredients for taking this guy down has too many toxins dangerous to everyone here.” Stiles picked up the small, tightly sealed package on the table and held it up for everyone to see. “Another reason why my plan is the only way this will work.”

At the apprehensive faces surrounding him, Stiles pressed his case.

“Listen,” Stiles said with feeling, “this guy is looking to take your body parts. As in things within your body cavity. I know none of you like it, but when he realizes I’m human and can’t be used, he won't be eager to waste time trying to get rid of me.”

“We don’t know that,” Derek said between clenched teeth, “you don’t know that.”

“Why are you being so hard on him,” Scott asked from his seat next to Stiles. “Stiles is the smartest person I know, and I trust his judgement.”

Stiles smiled gratefully at his best friend. He could always count on him to have his back.

“It's not his judgement we're doubting, Scott,” Boyd replied evenly. “We just don't know what this guy will do. None of us here has met the warlock without paying in flesh.”

“I know that he's desperate to get at werewolves for body parts,” Stiles said with emphasis taking the opportunity to get the conversation back on track. “I know he'll find out I'm only human when I take off the necklace I'm going to make. All of you are getting one as well. For protection.”

Stiles reached for the list that made up his concoctions and handed it to his left to be passed around the room. He decided to bring it along after his plan to beat the warlock had formed in his mind.

He knew the pack wouldn't like it, but passing around the ingredient list would show them why they had to keep a safe distance. It included the ingredients he was going to douse on the warlock when he could get close enough to the man.

His wolves were showing what he had expected they would. Worry and reluctance at putting him in sight of this guy.

Stiles felt touched by their concern but also annoyed. He wasn't a delicate flower. He knew the risks.

“Why can’t we just load this into a gun and shoot from a distance?” Erika asked. “The filling wouldn’t get on us that way.”

“I’ve thought of that,” Stiles answered. “This guy can make force fields around him. I think he’s been using them to get close enough to each one of you without your knowing. A bullet wouldn’t be able to penetrate it.”

“We won’t know for sure until we try,” Derek said. “I’ll do it.”

“We actually do know for sure,” Stiles countered. “I called Deaton this morning. He said he has firsthand experience that a gun won’t work. Proximity to the warlock is our best shot.”

“A bow, maybe?” Isaac suggested trying to keep Stiles as far from the guy like rest of his pack was trying to do.

Stiles sighed. They really did not want to go with his course of action.

“This guy is running out of time,” Stiles finally confessed, hating the fact that revealing the information he learned about the crazed magic-user would be the most convincing way to get them on board with his plan. He supposed they had a right to know anyway regardless of his unease.

“What do you mean?” Derek looked expectantly at Stiles as if knowing he had kept something hidden from them.

Stiles wondered if perhaps Derek was planning to ask about his plea for them to stick together the night before.

He had felt a kind of terror seeing them walk out the door with no guarantee of coming back. He had calmed down when he discovered a pattern of the warlock’s attacks. It had revealed that he most likely wouldn't attack that night. That and the fact that they were very strong supernatural beings helped lessen his worry.

Those facts, however, hadn't helped his concentration. He found that he wouldn't be able to tell the pack that the warlock's next attack was something to be very uneasy about. He also wouldn't be able to tell them it wasn't really a spleen the guy was after. Telling them would make them distracted targets when the guy decided to go at them.

“Did you learn anything from Deaton?” Scott asked. From his seat near Stiles he looked around at the pack and seemed to be thinking. He also had a bit of a suspicious look in his eye directed at Derek.

“Deaton said the guy was hit with a spell that is making him go mad,” Stiles said quietly. “He's getting desperate, which makes him dangerous and unpredictable.”

Stiles knew what he had to say next would most likely seal everyone in with his idea for confronting the warlock. He found he didn't need to embellish his informed opinion of the crazed man to make his point.

“I'd rather we have the guy in a more stable frame of mind than to wait for it to degenerate completely. I won't be able to see what's coming if the man doesn't even know what he's going to do next himself.”

Derek was quiet for a long while before reluctantly nodding his head.

Stiles let out a breath. They could move forward.

“The ingredients for the spell requires potent werewolf genes,” Stiles read from the instructions he’d written down.

“Speaking of potent,” he held out his hand to the alpha, “I need a nail or some flesh from you, Derek. Cough it up.” He wiggled his fingers and ignored Scott's scandalized expression.

Stiles thought Derek was going to refuse since he stood with a grimace on his face for a solid thirty seconds. He finally handed over a few nail clippings and hair after a brief stare off with Stiles.

“Shut it,” he said to Erica as he handed Stiles his DNA.

“I didn't even say anything,” she moped, but Stiles saw the end of an amused glimmer in her eyes.

“The whole thing needs about a day to make. We'll go over everything tomorrow before our attack the day after,” Stiles said before getting to work.

He headed to a small study where he'd moved all his materials from Deaton and was followed by Scott.

“They treat you like pack,” Scott began after he closed the door.

“I honestly think they consider me pack,” Stiles replied. “Stop making that face.”

“You're my family,” Scott said with a frown. “What gives Derek the right to act like he's your alpha? You and I have known each other since we were kids.”

“Saving each other’s life forms a connection?” Stiles suggested with a shrug as he gathered the ingredients and carefully read the instructions. He would get everything in place tonight and start early the next morning.

Scott crossed his arms. “I don't like it. Since when has he ever cared about what happened to you so much? Why can't he get his own Stiles?”

“Only one of me,” Stiles said lightly thumping his chest with his hand. “And it's not so much about what happens to me, I don't think. More than likely it’s his not being totally in control of the situation when we go at this guy that’s bothering him. It's my strategy we're using. He’s having to yield a little power here, which must be hard for an alpha werewolf.”

“Which is another thing,” Scott said. “I thought he was just being his usual difficult self but that was not what was going on in there.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked distractedly as he made notes and double checked his measurements.

“Does Derek like you?” Scott asked.

A laugh escaped Stiles’ mouth at the question. He did a double take when he saw Scott's serious expression. “You're serious?”

Scott rose his eyebrows and nodded.

“Dude, this is Derek. I'm sure he wouldn't find me appealing without a set of good-looking boobs and childbearing hips.”

“Stiles, he didn't take his eyes off of you for more than a few seconds the entire time we were in there,” Scott said. “Either he's gotten creepier or he's definitely interested.”

“I'm sure the pack would have told me something,” Stiles replied not sure what to make of his friend's argument.

“He's their alpha,” Scott said as if that explained everything. “They wouldn't do anything against his interests. They all seem to be on the same page with protecting you.”

“Isn't that a good thing?” Stiles asked.

“Yes, but that's not the point,” Scott said as he began pacing. “It feels like their concern is much more than it had been in the past.”

“Because of Derek?” Stiles asked in a tone that said he thought Scott was stretching his case a bit. “Listen,Scott, I've been talking to the pack since I've been away for school. We've all gotten closer. Don't worry about losing me to this pack. We'll always be family, you and me.”

Scott didn't appear completely satisfied but let the matter drop.

Stiles went back to organizing his stuff as he and Scott caught up.

The reality of a threat was a current beneath and throughout the house no matter how much they tried not to think about it. A dangerous man was after the pack. Stiles knew that the first plan had to be the last. Any other way cut their chances of success too much to try a more subtle route.

“Stiles,” Erica called from the kitchen, “dinner is ready!”

“Be right there!” Stiles called back.

He heard voices rise and fall followed by laughter.

When he turned he found Scott with a face of near incredulity.

“He's been cooking for you?”

Stiles’ stomach growled in response.

* * *

 

**The next night**

Stiles tried not to fidget as he walked the area marked deep in the forest where he thought was a good place to trap the warlock. The magic-user was good, but his pattern revealed a preference of attacking around the one o’clock hour. His mind went to the hidden dagger attached to his belt; just in case.

Stiles rubbed the small packet attached to the leather necklace he’d made yesterday. The mixture with hair and nails clippings would lead the warlock right to him. Being a natural born werewolf made Derek’s genes very distinct and obvious.

Stiles was very sure their stalker would be bold enough to attack the alpha that night. He’d worn something as close to a breastplate as he could under his clothes since the man needed a heart this time. He didn’t dare tell any of the others. They still thought the guy wanted a spleen.

His heart beat painfully against his chest and he hoped his wolves didn’t feel compelled to check on him from their positions around the area. They were pretty far away from where he was located but the distance wouldn’t be an issue for a werewolf to cover.

He heard a rustle to his right and felt the hairs on his neck and arms stand on end. To his fury and alarm Derek walked from the edge of the forest and into the clearing.

“You son of a bitch,” Stiles seethed through closed teeth. “I told you to stay even further than anyone around here.” His whispered voice held the anger he was sure the alpha heard loud and clear.

Derek plucked at the necklace he wore in answer. It was made by Stiles to keep him hidden from the warlock’s tracking magic.

Stiles took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair in an effort to keep his anger under control. It was almost one in the morning and Stiles had not anticipated Derek ruining his plan.

He had enough Wolfsbane in the brew he mixed up to kill at least three werewolves. He didn’t want to risk contaminating any of them. Now he had to worry about accidentally getting some on Derek if the werewolf decided to fight the man.

“Why are you here?” Stiles asked. “Do you not trust me to do the job? Go back to your spot!”

Derek walked up to Stiles and lifted his hand. He stopped short about a foot from Stiles’ chest not able to come closer due to the Wolfsbane Stiles had in the pouch.

“Why do you have lacrosse gear on?” he asked.

“You really want to have a conversation right now?” Stiles felt incredulous at the bad timing. “I don’t think we have the time for discussion, Derek.”

“I trust you, Stiles,” Derek said, “but you’ve been keeping something from us. I hope you really didn’t think I’d stay away. I know what your mixture can do to me, but you’re pack.”

“You must’ve been dropped on your head when you were a baby,” Stiles replied.

“The covering you have on doesn’t exactly extend to your spleen,” Derek shot back.

Stiles was about to respond but Derek’s widened eyes alerted him to the warlock’s arrival.

Derek turned but blocked Stiles from view. Stiles tiptoed to the side to see the man who was responsible for terrorizing his wolves.

The moon was bright enough to reveal a very tall figure wearing a brimmed black hat, a white shirt, and dark pants with boots. His eyes gleamed in the night. The aura around the man made Stiles shiver.

The warlock was past saving himself. His mind was gone.

Derek took a step forward. The warlock shot out a hand and sent Derek flying against a tree with incredible force.

The laugh from his mouth was inhuman. Stiles felt his terror well up inside him but held his ground. If he couldn’t stop the man now, someone would end up dead before the night was done.

Stiles dared a glance at Derek’s form struggling to rise from the ground.

He moved in a slow circle always facing the deranged warlock. If he could get him within range, the brew in his pocket could easily drench and immobilize him.

Feral eyes desert of humanity trailed his movements. Gaunt features made the man appear famished. The crazed look Stiles saw when the wizard stared at his chest made cold sweat run down his brow.

Stiles jumped when the warlock was knocked off his feet by a large werewolf. He hadn’t heard a sound. Judging by how he was caught so unaware, neither did the man now grappling with a creature twice his size. Stile could only figure he was using magic to keep from being killed by Derek’s huge claws.

Stiles quickly took out his brew and made to go to the wrestling mass that had ended up a good way from where he was. Before he took three steps, a pained yowl from Derek made his stomach drop and heart stop.

Stiles ran at the warlock and saw the glimmer of a knife reflect the moon's beams when he got nearer.

He pulled his own dagger from its sheath, not willing to risk Derek’s life by getting any of his mixture on him.

The warlock’s hand started to descend. If Stiles didn't strike now, Derek would be dead.

With that knowledge in mind he didn't think twice. The man was so intent of piercing the werewolf for the kill that he didn’t see Stiles coming. Stiles knocked him away from Derek, hitting with enough force to turn the man around.

With no hesitation, Stiles brought down his weapon. He poised the dagger so that his weight would be behind his point of entry. A slight pressure of the fabric of the shirt was all Stiles felt before the long dagger in his own hand delved into the warlock's heart.

Blood gushed over his hands and soaked both their clothes.

Stiles looked into the silent scream on the warlock's face as their eyes met. He couldn't move.

A tight grip encircled his wrist as the man began speaking in rapid Latin. He eyes burned even as the life slipped from them.

A warm spatter of blood landed on Stiles' face as the warlock coughed his last breath and fell to the ground.

Stiles could hardly believe he was standing there with the sure death of a person literally on his hands. And lying dead at his feet.

“Stiles!” Erica bounded from the foliage, out of breath. “Are you okay?”

Scott was right behind her. She gripped his face, searching it out and sniffing at the blood.

“Good, not yours,” she sighed before catching sight of Derek's limp body on the ground.

She ran over to him and looked him over while Stiles came back to himself. He weakly walked over to Derek, heartbeat slowing as he went.

“Are you ok?” Scott asked, peering into his face with concern. He didn't comment on the blood soaking his clothes and hands.

Stiles could only nod. The only reason he wasn't freaking out was because he did what he had to. Derek was safe and the warlock was dealt with. The pack didn't have to worry anymore.

“He's good, guys,” Stiles said as Boyd and Isaac emerged from the woods breathing hard and taking in the scene.

“There was some kind of invisible barrier keeping us out,” Isaac said to Stiles, taking his turn to peer at the dead man. “We couldn't find a way in.”

“I thought he had some trick up his sleeve,” Stiles replied in a whisper as he made to place his hand on Derek's head. He stopped before contact was made when he saw the dark blood on his fingers.

“What happened?” Boyd asked, stepping over to the warlock before helping Erika pick up Derek who was still in his werewolf form.

“Distraction worked for the most part,” Stiles’ voice quivered. He wiped his shaking hands on his pants. They were ruined by this point anyway. “Derek decided to be Derek and showed up. I’d be dead if he hadn’t.”

Stiles shook his head as a low buzzing noise sounded in his ears. “It was insane how powerful the guy was.”

“We didn't know much about him, to begin with,” Boyd said, walking slowly in step with Erika dragging Derek between them. “You learned more about him than what we ever managed to scrounge up.”

“Wish it didn't have to end the way it did,” Stiles said, taking a few steps towards the direction they had to head. His limbs suddenly felt heavy before his vision blurred.

His heart gave a large thump before the world tilted. He heard panicked voices calling his name in alarm before passing out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!!!
> 
> I'm sorry to leave everyone on such a cliff hanger. The next couple of chapters to come were already planned a long time ago but this story will be going in a direction I hadn't planned on going when I had first thought it up. I'd add the tags for it but I haven't solidified the plot to that extent yet. 
> 
> Anyways, I wanted to prepare everyone following this story that it will be some time before the next chapter will be published. It's already sort of written but not enough to post without editing and adding plot. I have some real life stuff to do and this has to be on the back burner. Sorry!!


End file.
